


Difficult

by NyxSolei



Category: ATEEZ (Band), K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Foster Family, Angst, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Running Away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-28
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24963694
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NyxSolei/pseuds/NyxSolei
Summary: From time to time, they would send him to the social worker, trying to match him up with someone to babysit him. They would tell him that he has to go and play nice with these charity seekers that would call themselves ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ in front of him. It’s disgusting, really - he isn’t looking to be someone’s pet, nor someone’s son.orChoi San is getting sent to a group foster home and learns how to love himself and others a little more.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Comments: 15
Kudos: 65





	1. New Ground

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment with your thoughts! Comments are life for us poor writers!

The camera flashes - nothing he’s not used to. He tries not to blink, they would ask him to do it again if he will and frankly, he’s getting tired of this routine. He chews on his tongue piercing as they announce the completion of the photography and before he knows it, he’s moving from one boring room to another.

Just like always.

His jaw still radiates heat from the blows he got earlier, but at this point the pain is a part of this routine. He scratches the spot and the handcuffs rattle, what earns him a tug from the officer in front of him.

“Come on, kid, you’re up for the social worker.” The officer says.

He can’t hold back the roll of his eyes. 

From time to time, they would send him to the social worker, trying to match him up with someone to babysit him. They would tell him that he  _ has to _ go and play nice with these charity seekers that would call themselves ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ in front of him. It’s disgusting, really - he isn’t looking to be someone’s pet, nor someone’s son.

“Choi San.” The woman greets him, standing up with a smile. He catches all of her  _ almost _ faded wrinkles. Her clothes aren’t especially expensive, but aren’t the cheap go-to San usually dresses. With her hair tied to a messy bun and a golden necklace around her neck, San knows she has some extra money than most.

Probably not from this tiring job.

“I thought you promised that I wouldn’t see you at the station anymore. Why are you here?” She asks, not unkindly rather than curious.

He huffs, shrugs and sits down at the same plastic chair he sat before multiple times, looking around the room for anything new to inspire him into giving her some selling answer. He notices beyond her desk in front of him, there are a couple of pictures- drawings made in cheap kids’ paint of some butterflies and bees. Besides them, her certificates are displayed on the wall, some color to the boringly grey confines of the room. She looks at him with almost disappointment in her eyes, but San doesn’t buy it. It’s all a game for them to look good anyway.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs, lips stopping for a moment to tug on his piercing - a habit when he’s nervous, “I guess I’m just not suited for a family, you know?”

The woman chuckles, taking out his folder, “Everyone needs a family, San.” She pulls out a sheet of paper, “Look, I am going to make a deal with you, until you’re legal to take care of yourself, you need supervision.”

“I don’t need to be anyone’s charity project.” He protests before she can even continue, “I don’t  _ need _ to be anyone’s show-off child.”

“There are thousands of families waiting for children, those who want to show love and acceptance to them.” She responds calmly.

San rolls his eyes.

“There’s a family here, for you, they’re waiting outside.” She explains and San already thinks of how he can run away the moment it’s possible, “They’re a nice couple, they run a foster home for children with  _ difficulties _ .”

San frowns at the word.

“Can I say no?” He simply asks, not even bothering to sugarcoat anything.

“You have to try.” She says, standing up to lead him to the door, “ _ Without _ running away, this time.”

San almost laughs.

  
  
  


* * *

The car stinks of some strong chemical air freshener scent. It’s on the rusty seats, on the slightly dirty window and mostly, on the two up front, and the two next to San.

San scans the elder two out of the four, they introduced themselves prior to leading him to the car, but he didn’t bother remembering their names. He’s gonna get out quicker than he needs to use them. They look pretty young, perhaps in their mid-thirties, all smiling and having that same sparkle in their eyes like all the other families that tried to coo San into liking them. Just a bit before they started training him like a show puppy.

San is anything but.

They smile at him softly again, starting the car and leading them to what  _ should _ be San’s new home. He looks to his sides- one boy probably at his age with a mullet and earphones plugged as he stares at his phone in disinterest, and the other- Seonghwa, he thinks they called him, wears a warm smile as he returns the gaze to San.

His jaw still hurts.

“You’re going to be sharing a room, Sannie, with-” And San taps out of listening. They continue talking, but all San can think of is on what floor this room is, and how it’s gonna hurt if he jumps out of the window. Maybe a little, nothing he didn’t do before.

“You’re going to love it. It might be a little overwhelming, but I assure you, the boys are nice.” The woman continues talking.

San wants to get out of here.

“I’m Seonghwa.” The boy next to him introduces himself quietly, still adorning a polite smile, “The other one is Hongjoong. He’s studying composition, it’s hard to talk to him when he’s like this.” He chuckles, looking at San, waiting for an answer.

San choses to scan him; the slightly worn-out scarf, the black-with-cat hair sweater and his light brown- probably self-colored hair. He looks nice, like one of these kids that the charity projects seekers would love. Calm, obedient, well-spoken, well-behaved. Everything that San isn’t.

He looks away, not offering Seonghwa a single word. Instead, he just chews on his piercing, looking outside the window and wishing for this tiring stage to be over.

San has done this more times than he can remember, all the greetings, all the needless attachment to people just to be thrown out when he becomes difficult. The last time was worse than the rest, he recalls. 

A couple, a  _ rich _ couple took him in, hoping him to become one of these charity stories that get the media running wild. To their credit, the woman  _ was _ kind to San - hell, she gave him whatever he wanted; money, clothes, unlimited access to the alcohol cabin. It was her husband that got San riling. Most of the time he didn’t even pay attention to him, which was a blessing, but it’s the times he  _ did _ pay attention that bothered him. 

He kept talking to San like he was a child, like how he should change the red streaks on his black hair to something more  _ presentable _ , or how no  _ good kid _ has piercings - not on his brow, not on his tongue, and not even ears. When San didn’t agree with these conditions, it got bad.

His jaw sends another ripple of pain in these memories.

Before he can tap out of his thoughts, the car stops, and he’s faced with the place he has to withstand for the next few hours.

“We’re home.” Seonghwa beams at him.

* * *

San is greeted with that same stinky air-freshener scent when he’s pushed to his allegedly new room. That, and a bright blue haired giant.

“I’m Yunho!” He beams, standing up from the desk. He’s towering over San in a way that the latter dislikes, and he’s speaking in such a happy tone that is just not suitable for this hour.

“I like your hair, it’s cool!” The other tries again, but San ignores him in favor of taking in the room. Bunk bed, a single window, inspirational posters and photographs spread around the walls until the wallpaper behind them is barely visible. One window, large enough, but a second floor. If he’s lucky, he can jump onto the adjacent tree.

“Whatever.” San utters, climbing to bed and ignoring the other. There’s really no need to make a conversation with someone he’s not going to see ever again. There are a few brief minutes of silence before his roommate interrupts.

“It’s almost dinner-time, aren’t you hungry?” He asks, sounding  _ all too nice _ .

San turns to the wall, facing away from Yunho and chews on his piercing. This day has been long enough without him needing to make stupid, pointless conversation.

Yunho sighs, and he can hear him leaving the room.

* * *

“He’s not coming down?” Seonghwa asks, moving the pot to the table and removing his gloves. It’s his turn to cook, and before he moves to college, Seonghwa is more than happy to do so.

“No, he’s not talking either.” Yunho replies, trying to steal some of the goods on the table, only to be slapped away by the older, “He reminds me of Hongjoong-hyung when he first got here.”

“Yeah, except I don’t have a criminal record in the length of all of the Lord of The Rings trilogy.” Hongjoong shrugs, pushing himself off the sofa and finally putting down the earphones, “The social worker said he’s a  _ really difficult case _ .” He mimics the lady, sitting down at the table.

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa scolds.

“What?” The other retorts, “I’m not saying I agree with how they called him, but the guy has a history.”

Seonghwa sighs, “Regardless, if he’s here then we all should give him a chance--” He looks around, counting the seats, “Where’s Jongho?”

Yunho gapes, “I was supposed to call him, right?” 

The other two nod in reply, and in a blink, Yunho is heading up to call the youngest of them. 

“I’ll go up and give him a plate, he must be hungry.” The older mutter, collecting plates and setting aside a portion, “Maybe he’s just overwhelmed- you didn’t leave your room in a week when you joined.”

Hongjoong chuckles tiredly, “Yeah, well, he’s not me. I saw in the car how he glared at everything.” He picks up a cut fresh carrot, “He’s gonna run away, and they’re gonna go through the same heartbreak of having to give up a kid for the authorities. We’ve all been there, hyung.”

Seonghwa doesn’t want to speak of it.

“I guess we’ll just have to try our best and keep an eye on him then, right?” He tries to sound cheerful, just as Yunho returns with Jongho. The youngest has some streaks of ink on his cheek, some that Seonghwa immediately turns to wipe away, regardless of the other’s protests.

“Where’s the new guy?” Jongho asks, pushing Seonghwa away and sitting down next to Hongjoong.

“Seonghwa is going to give him a plate, he’s not feeling like coming down.” Hongjoong shrugs.

“Hongjoong!” The elder scolds again, “He’s just exhausted, you can start without me.” With that, Seonghwa grabs the plate he prepared and heads up.

* * *

  
  


The first few knocks on the door are arguably ignorable as San tries to cover his head with the pillow, but the third time there are knocks on the door, he groans and croaks a tired “Yes?”.

It’s that guy- Seonghwa, with a plate in his hand.

“Hey, you must be exhausted, but I made salmon, and I’ve been told I’m a pretty good cook.” He looks at San hopefully, offering the plate. San promptly faces the wall again.

“There’s school tomorrow, so don’t stay up late, okay?” Seonghwa tries one last time, “Try and eat.”

With that, he leaves.

San is almost tempted to eat, but favors sleeping instead.

* * *

  
  


The weather is bleak- an unknown mixture of hot and grey, giving the perfect background to the school San is faced with. It's large, not as large as his last one, but just enough to vanish between other students. He won't be too noticeable, that is, if he can avoid being seen with the other mismatched boys he arrived with.

Seonghwa promised to pick them up at the end, and leaves them on their own. The guy that San didn't see yesterday- Jongho, doesn't speak a word, but he's a pitiful sight next to the other three. With a crutch in his left hand, struggling to walk quickly, he's helped by Yunho. San thinks it's upsetting- he's not even sure why, but the image of Jongho having to get someone else's help repulses him.

Nonetheless, he goes to class as he's been told. He just needs to survive a little longer before he can get away. He doesn't even bother listening to other people's greetings, he just looks outside the window, chewing on the piercing and wishing for this to be over.

However, he isn't as lucky during lunch. Yunho seems all too eager to befriend San, and the latter is just tired of it.

"How did you color your hair?" Yunho asks, but before even giving time to San to reply, "I always have to bleach on my own, so it's a little messy. Oh, and Seonghwa-hyung got really mad when he found the sink all blue." He chuckles.

San raises an eyebrow, playing with the food he's been given.

"Hyung is kind of a neat-freak, I think he used to be a maid in his past-life." Yunho giggles, "Do you believe in past life?"

"Don't bother, Yunho, he might as well be mute." Hongjoong grumbles, picking up the sandwich, "Save your energy."

San frowns, then glares, "What's your problem?"

"Oh, he speaks." Hongjoong smiles in amusement.

San rolls his eyes, standing up with his tray and leaves. Yunho is after him, not before giving an angry glance at Hongjoong.

"Wait-wait! San!" He calls after him, but San once again ignores him. He's tired of this. He takes in his options, and decides on the one he likes best- hiding on the roof until the day is over. It's only a few sets of overused staircases before he can have some peace and quiet.

Some students in the hall look at him, scanning his features, whispering about his pierced brow and slightly colorful jaw. Judgmental eyes follow him everywhere, and it agitates him greatly. He needs to get out.

If there's anything San hates the most it's judgemental gazes from people that don't know a single thing about him. He's not trying to get into trouble, he's not  _ trying _ to become a  _ difficult case _ . People around him behave in the most obnoxious way, and some are simply evil- hurting other people who are weaker.

San has promised himself to never be weak, to never succumb to judgement and to always stand up for himself, and those who can't stand up for themselves. It usually gets him in trouble and in fights, but if there's anything San doesn't understand is why the  _ hell _ should he be quiet about stuff like that. Why should he just let it pass by without doing anything?

He snaps back to reality as he's faced with the door to the roof. He's tired of explaining himself to other people, tired of playing family and playing by the rules. These rules just don't comply with San-- he needs to breathe. He needs an escape.

However, as soon as the door opens, he's met with another guy- walking right into him before stumbling back with a grunt.

"Oh, hey!" The other looks at San, not in a glare, but in concern, "Are you okay? I didn't hit you too hard, right?"

San looks at the other, about to snap at him, but favours remaining quiet. Pale blond hair, carefully combed and styled, a mole under his eye- a real stage kid.

"I'm Wooyoung," He introduces himself, still watching San, "Sorry I bumped into you," Wooyoung chuckles, "I'm careless sometime."

San grunts, pushing pass him to the roof, "Whatever."

* * *

  
  


San meets the rest by the end of the day, Yunho still helping Jongho down the stairs. He's almost tempted to ask what happened, but his only choice is to speak to that Hongjoong guy, and he would rather choke before he would willingly speak to him.

Either way he's going to be out of here by night.

"Hey!" Yunho calls, and San can hear a loud thud. He turns to the image of Jongho being grabbed and pushed down by some other guys.

"Stop it!" Hongjoong calls too, trying to pry Jongho from them, "What the hell are you doing bullying a disabled kid?" He roars.

Oh, so that's what's wrong with Jongho.

San glances at the floor- the younger yelping helplessly as the students around him kick his stomach, punching and beating with no relent.

San gulps.

_ Stay in low profile. _

Jongho screams as they hit his hip, and Hongjoong, although being shorter tries to pull them away with the help of Yunho, who looks really uncomfortable at the thought of violence.

_ Don't do it _ .

San glances around, more people are taking out their phones, filming the whole ordeal. His eyes wander as he freezes at the sight of that guy from the rooftop-- Wooyoung?

He's looking  _ straight _ at San, hopeful, expecting.

_ Don't get in trouble. _

"Where's your mom and dad?" They scowl at crying and shaking Jongho, "They're gonna pretend to love you only when there's media around?" They viciously growl, delivering another blow to Jongho's stomach.

_ Don't.Do.It. _

San groans, exchanging a single glance with Wooyoung before combing through his messy hair and launching forward, tackling one of the bullies away from Jongho.

He growls, screams and delivers blow after blow to his nose and jaw, rendering him speechless and helpless.

He feels a blow to his shoulder- it almost tickles- he turns around, standing up from straddling the whimpering mess of a bully to grab the other and push him down to the ground. He punches harshly at the other's shoulder.

San feels the blood in his mouth before he feels the impact from the punch. That doesn't stop him. He kicks them, standing up before grabbing their hair, pulling with intense strength.

"We're no one's charity project." He growls.

They whimper below him, beaten and terrified.

"Got that?"

San pushes them back to the ground and they let out another agonized moan. He looks around, catching Wooyoung's eyes, and there's something almost  _ painful _ in them.

What the hell?

Didn't he look at San, wanting him to get involved?

San groans, frustrated. He spits out the blood and grabs his bag before helping Jongho up, who is looking at him with  _ terrified _ eyes.

"Let's go." Is all San offers.

What the hell everyone wants from him?

What the hell Wooyoung wants from him?

Why does he even  _ care _ ?

San is more confused and frustrated than before.

  
  



	2. Not His Circus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> San is confused, and no one is helpful.  
> But, he didn't run away.  
> Yet.

San grasps his bag and looks outside the window. It's not a long way down, and maybe he can get to the tree- if he's lucky.

The day has been confusing and frustrating enough- he planned on staying in low profile until he escapes from here, but he didn't. His stupid impulses didn't let him. Once again he finds himself in fights and rather than staying here and waiting for the rest to reprimand him for his violent behavior, San prefers to get out.

However, not a moment after he sits on the window frame, San hears a knock, prompting him to act faster. He looks down at the fall, looks to his side to the tree. It would be painful either way. 

He takes a deep breath and braces himself for the jump.

"Wait!" The door opens and San halts, glaring at the man. It's Seonghwa- not looking angry, rather than calm. San frowns at him, his legs already dangling from outside the window.

He is so close.

"I'm not going to try and stop you from running away," The older says, lifting up his arms in defeat, "I promise I'm not. I just want to take care of your wounds before you do."

That's how he finds himself without much power to protest, sitting on Yunho's bed, with Seonghwa kneeling before him and holding a stinky alcohol-soaked cotton ball. San is tired, and his lip and jaw throb, but most of all- he's confused.

He can't read Seonghwa- why isn't he trying to stop him?

"It's going to sting, I'm sorry." Seonghwa says quietly, lifting San's chin slightly and dabbing the cotton to his lip. It does sting, but San is too tired to say anything.

He's not sure about Seonghwa- he acts as if San didn't just beat two people and probably broke their noses. Usually, he'd get reprimanded for it. Usually, that's when people would tell San how much they're disappointed.

Absentmindedly, he chews on the piercing in his mouth, until he gets a light chuckle from the older.

"I can't help you if you keep moving your lip." Seonghwa calmly says, still holding San's chin.

"I don't need your help." San replies before he can even process the words. He flinches away, moving from the older's reach. 

"Then you help me, okay?" Seonghwa softly speaks, taking San's chin again, "I have a problem where I can't let my brothers be in pain without getting treated."

San rolls his eyes, "We're not actually brothers." The same scent everything in this place seems to have is stronger as he allows Seonghwa to hold him. Some chemical, unnatural dispenser smell that makes San want to gag.

Somehow, on Seonghwa, it doesn't stink as much.

"You're my brother from the moment you stepped in the car and I'm going to take care of you." The older releases him, putting everything back in his box, "And you're even more my brother now after you helped Jongho." Seonghwa grins, looking away, "Thank you, San."

San looks the other way, "That's dumb. I didn't do it for you."

"I know," The older looks back at San, "But I'm still thankful. You're a good person, San." Then, he heads towards the door, "It's almost dinner, why won't you wash up and wait here so I'll bring you a plate? You don't have to join everyone."

San is deaf to everything but Seonghwa's soft words.

_ You're a good person, San _ .

What?

* * *

  
  


He found earphones on Yunho’s desk, and that’s how he’s strolling the school halls now. With earphones plugged tightly, lip still slightly stinging and an iron will to ignore the world. His backpack is hanging over his shoulder, San keeps distance from anyone. He can see their lips moving, whispering, almost mocking as he catches their glances, but shoves them away.

It’s easy to judge without knowing anything.

He doesn’t bother to listen in class, keeping his ears plugged and as lunch break starts, San heads for the roof. It’s too stuffy between the halls and San needs to breathe. However, when he opens the door to the rooftop, he’s greeted with  _ his _ face. 

Wooyoung glances at him from his spot where he leans on the railing. It’s not painful, it’s not sad, it’s filled with questions. San doesn’t want to answer anything, he’s too confused on his own to answer anyone else’s questions. He hoped to be alone, maybe figure things out, but he doesn’t bother to shoo Wooyoung away.

He turns up the music and climbs on the railing, sitting with his legs dangling in the air, three stories above the school grounds. Everyone looks small from here. San can see the bus stop and some kids gathered around there. He even notices those morons he punched yesterday, lurking and smoking at the corner. One of them still has some redness on his face, and San feels oddly proud about it.

Then, he feels someone tap his shoulder.

San turns around slowly, plucking out one of his earphones and watching with a questioning gaze the other. Wooyoung smiles softly, not pitifully and moves to lean on the railing as well. San doesn’t tell him to go away.

“I think that was cool, what you did there.” Wooyoung says, voice slightly cheerful.

San rolls his eyes on an instinct, “I don’t care what you think.” He replies.

“That’s fine,” Wooyoung shrugs, “Want a cookie? I took too much.”

San quirks an eyebrow, studying the other. If there’s anyone that confuses him the most, it’s Wooyoung. He’s a real perfect child- looks friendly, well dressed, probably popular too by his looks. He has nothing to do with San- nothing other than running into one another twice on this roof. But then again, why such a  _ good kid  _ like him would be on the roof, where no one else but San is.

“You’re overthinking it, it’s just a cookie.” Wooyoung chuckles and hands one to San, “Here. I didn’t see you at lunch so you must be hungry.”

“Why are you doing this?” San grumbles, looking intensely at the cookie between both of them.

Wooyoung smiles, a teethy, amused grin, “It’s called making friends, I was told I’m pretty good at it.” Then, he grabs a cookie for himself and eats it happily, “But I guess that's what happens when you’re a foster kid.”

San nearly slips from the rail. He chews on his piercing and watches as Wooyoung eats the cookie. No, Wooyoung  _ cannot _ be a foster kid. Foster kids are like him-- like Hongjoong or Jongho, full of defects and malicious attitudes. Wooyoung is anything but; he’s charming, charismatic and likeable. 

“Is this some kind of a joke?” San swats away the cookie the blonde has offered, “Is this some new way to make fun of me?” He jumps from the railing, landing swiftly and grabbing harshly the collar of the other’s shirt, pushing him against it.

Wooyoung groans from the impact, “No-no! Why would you even think that? San!” He shouts, “I was just offering you a cookie, if you didn’t want it just say no!” He screams, trying to push off the agitated one.

San lets him go with a loud thud of the shaky railing, frowning at the yelling. He breathes for a moment, intense gazes locked- one frightened and confused and the other angered and no less confused. Friends, huh? 

San doesn’t do  _ friends _ . He’s going to be out of this place soon. He doesn’t have to connect to anyone. It saves the heartbreak and loneliness that follows.

“Leave me alone.” He grumbles, pushing his earphones back and hurrying out of the door- from one hell to another.

San  _ hates _ it.

* * *

  
  


It’s already his sixth day in the same place, and San hasn’t spoken to anyone but Seonghwa and Wooyoung. The older tries to prod at him with questions about school, about his needs- about his feelings. All to which San replies with nothing but silence and a cold gaze. He’s been trying out the food he’s given, and while it isn’t the gourmet meals he had in his last place, it’s edible, sufficient, and San isn’t striving for anything better.

The car rides are a whole different story, however. That’s the part where he must sit with Hongjoong, the occasional prick that San has to deal with. Regardless of his small form, San learned that he has a big mouth and an even greater attitude. He doesn’t get along with those kinds of people, so he tries his best to ignore him with music.

That proves to be difficult when Seonghwa informs him of his “no earphones in the car” rule, and takes away his only salvation from not getting absolutely pissed.

San feels like a child again. A child in a cramped place with a bunch of people that he doesn’t want to be with.

He looks out of the window as the rest continue their banter, only to feel a light tap on his shoulder. He’s not in the mood for a conversation, so San ignores it, favoring the view outside. With all these forced interactions and the new people his fuse is short. His nerves are frayed, and frankly, if someone tries to talk to him again soon, he might start getting physical so people will understand his boundaries.

San doesn’t expect a piece of paper landing on his thigh, wordlessly, as the tapping ceased.

_ Thanks for beating them up _ .

The red-haired glances up, maybe too quickly, to find a face staring at him with apprehensiveness. Jongho looks shocked and perhaps a little scared when San turns to him.

“I-I-” The youngest mumbles, “I mean it.” He spits out eventually, voice weak.

San spares a glance between him and the paper, then closes his wrist over the paper, offering a strange smirk to the younger and looking back to the unchanging scenery of the city. 

These moments leave him most confused. He’s used to disorder, he’s used to things not making sense until all of his emotions are riled up. It has been like that every time- San stands for his beliefs and morals, then he gets reprimanded for them. He doesn’t, however, get a ‘ _ Thanks _ ’.

It scares him, more than he wants to admit. It scares him to find this--- This  _ peace _ after doing something he believes that needs to be done. He doesn’t want it to get to him, not now, and not ever; the cost would be simply too much. Too much for his heart.

As much as San projects a stone wall to people around him, it’s a wall that works both ways. If pain can’t get in, pain can’t get out.

“I heard you’ve been getting along with Wooyoung-ssi.” Seonghwa says suddenly, snapping San back to focus. 

That’s another thing.

Wooyoung.

The boy has been occupying his spot on the rooftop, trying to get on San’s nerves every single day. It started with offering cookies, then whining about some math class San doesn’t really care about. It went on to Wooyoung explaining in great detail how his friend- Yeosang, as he recalls, had fallen off his skateboard and had to get stitches for the bruise.

San doesn’t even know why he bothers listening to it, but for some odd reason, it keeps him… Calm.

It’s almost like a white noise that he hasn’t heard in a long time- someone actually  _ talking _ to him. He doesn’t have to reply, it doesn’t change Wooyoung’s annoying banter anyway as he has learned, and San doesn’t care enough to reply coherently and make this into a conversation.

However, the boy has a certain way to make San feel less.. Quiet and lonely in his head. That’s dangerous, San decides, and it has to be stopped, but day after day he returns to the same spot on the rooftop. He’s not sure why, but things have proved to be utterly confusing for him, and he doesn’t try to understand this feeling any longer.

“He’s a good kid,” Seonghwa says when San- yet again- doesn’t respond, “I think you’ll make good friends, don’t you agree, Joong?”

Hongjoong chuckles, cocking an eyebrow and glancing to the side, “Yeah, maybe he’ll finally get The Little Mermaid her voice back.”

“Hongjoong!” Seonghwa scolds.

San nearly growls at the remark, ready to launch forward and land a fist on the man’s face, but feels a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Jongho.

The boy shakes his head, mouthing, “ _ Don’t _ .”, eyes pleading and scared just like they were when San told him to get off the ground after beating these morons.

And San doesn’t.

He looks away, yanking his shoulder from the younger’s hold and keeps looking at the street they’re passing.  _ It’s not worth it _ , he tells himself, and the voice in his head sounds oddly like Wooyoung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! It was difficult to write, but so much fun! Let me know what you think!


	3. Different

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mild descriptions of a panic attack at the start of the chapter! Please read with care!

San wakes up from his light sleep with sweat decorating his chin and neck. He touches his lip, reminding himself that the pain he's feeling isn't real- it was only a dream. His heart races loudly against his chest- threatening to burst right through his rib cage, so he decides to get out of bed.

It's already his 9th day in this place and he just started to allow himself to sleep at night sometimes. His roommate- Yunho, doesn't wake up when San is restless so he wanders around the room quite frequently. It's stuffed, he decides, and leaves to find a way to calm his heart.

He has been here for too long and his own fear is rising and creeping each and every single day he spends here another moment. San can already recall places, people, paths, and he's terrified. This is what happens every time.

The attachment.

He throws on his sweat drenched face some cold water from the tap and lifts his gaze to the mirror. 

It has been long since he last saw himself.

The bruising on his lips looks a lot better, and the dark marks on his temple are nothing but some slight discoloration. The piercing on his brow carries with it bits of dry blood and he's not sure whether it’s from his last fight with these pieces of trash the other day, or from the incident before he arrived here. 

He pushes his face under the cold stream, taking a deep breath and trapping it inside. He holds it without mercy for the longest time he can, hoping it'll at least make him dizzy and his heart will get the message.

San counts the seconds, with each count letting another disturbing flash of memory go. The crash. The loss. The orphanage. Running away. The streets. The orphanage again. Running away again. The orphanage again. Running away agai-

San pulls away with a loud gasp, filling his deprived lungs with cool, fresh air. He's panting when he leans with both of his hands over the sink, looking at his sad reflection in the dirty, misty mirror. He's dripping everywhere, both on the floor and down his body. Every droplet feels like a small razor trickling down his skin and pricking it wherever the surface isn't rough enough.

He's still not calm. He has to calm down.

San opens the counter with too much force, water making the handles slippery. He rummages inside, throwing out everything that isn't helpful- brushes, bandages, some creams, until he finally reaches for the only thing that might help him.

* * *

  
  
  


“Have you tried the school?” Seonghwa hesitantly asks before dialing another number on his phone. 

“Yes, they couldn’t find him,” Jongho replies, flipping through the phone book, “Do you really think he left, hyung?” He asks, but somehow the answer he’s most afraid of is already blooming in his mind. San was unhappy, that much he knows, so the option of running away- especially after his past- it’s not unlikely.

The oldest sighs, picking up his phone, eyebrows drawn together in concentration, “I don’t know, Jongho. I ho- yes, hello? My name is Park Seonghwa-” He falls into the same conversation he had multiple times today.

“Don’t worry Jongho,” Hongjoong slings his bag over his shoulder, scrunching his oversized, old denim jacket, “I say good riddance if he finally decided to leave.” He wears an agonized frown, “Better now than later.”

“Hongjoong, that’s enough.” Seonghwa turns off the call and scolds in frustration, “San isn’t him, and while I’m aware you’re still hurt, please, I’m begging you-”

“So we’re all gonna ignore the fact he’s been acting like a little shit ever since he saw us?” Hongjoong retaliates with venom, “Let him go, let him leave, it’s better this way.” He throws his shoulder back as he steps towards the elder, “I have class and I’m not gonna let any grumpy shit make me miss anything.” Hongjoong points his finger at the other’s chest, “I think you should do the same.”

Seonghwa sighs, “If you are going to be unhelpful, Hongjoong, then go, let us know if you see anything, alright?” 

“Hyung!” Before Hongjoong manages to reply, Yunho runs down the stairs with a stack of empty bottles, “Hyung look!” He whines, holding out the plastic bottles, “All my bleach is gone!”

  
  


* * *

San pulls the hoodie further, the rain hitting only the tip of his nose. It isn’t cold, but the sun is hiding behind some grey clouds, and the haze blurs the end of the street. The soft tapping of droplets on the unopened store’s roofs matches with his thumping heart, providing the slightest of comforts. His eyes are glued to the sidewalk, noticing every deformity in the tiles; dried up gums, stickers and flyers that long lost their colors and other cracks in the stone. He kicks some trash from his way, listening to the soft sound it makes along with the rain.

It was too constricting in the house so he had to get out.

San isn’t sure where he’s walking- he just wants-- _needs_ to get away. Luckily, at this hour and in this weather there aren’t many people to disturb his serene solace. Sure, his phone has been blowing up like crazy, probably calls from that guy, Seonghwa, or that couple that took him in. Maybe even Jongho, but he’s not sure. 

Does Jongho care about him now? Is that how things work? He beats up some morons and gets someone’s care?

San is confused.

He doesn’t want to hurt people, he doesn’t want to get into fights, it just _happens_ , and he doesn’t enjoy it. The thought of getting on someone’s good side because he used his fists somehow makes him even more sombre. The blonde shuts his eyes, holding in a breath trapped in his chest, as if letting it out will cause some undefined dam behind his eyes to burst and weaken his walls.

“Yeah, so I tried the other type, but- Ow!” 

Something-- Someone bumps into San, and the blonde stumbles back slightly, finally lifting his gaze with intensity at the offender of his peace. However, not a second later his eyebrows are raised, eyes opening with surprise.

“San?” Wooyoung cocks his head in confusion, “What are you doing here? School’s not that way.” A voice bursts from Wooyoung’s phone, but both of them ignore it. San averts his gaze- maybe if he’ll ignore him he could go on.

The voice shouts something from the other side of the line, but Wooyoung hangs up, shoving the phone into his pocket, “Hey, where are you going?” He asks hesitantly, taking an apprehensive step towards San, who only steps back in reply.

“Can I come too?” Wooyoung tries again, searching for the other’s eyes to no avail- San will avoid him at all costs.

“‘Eave me ‘lone.” San blurts, voice raspy and weak from the night’s excruciating events. He pushes his hands further into the pockets of his sweater, shoulders round and sinking in the fabric. He takes an anxious step away from Wooyoung, but just as he suspected - Wooyoung follows. At first, Wooyoung is trying to pry more- asking San all those questions that he simply _can’t_ answer right now, but a few blocks later, he reduces himself to walk silently next to him, covering them both with a single umbrella.

It starts to become colder- perhaps it’s the wind, or the drenched sweater, but a shiver runs through the now-blonde boy. His gaze stays fixed on the ground, but his shoulders drop slightly, and his fists aren’t as clenched as before. His jaw unlocks a little, teeth aching at any movement.

He listens to the streets, starting to come to life at an hour he should be in school, and Wooyoung too. There are some shops opening, people walking to work under the shower and cars coming to life. This muffled noise reminds him of the time he called these very sounds _home_. 

He remembers the winters the most, when it was cold and snowing. 

San looks up, stopping in the middle of the street and Wooyoung with him. He blinks some of the watery beads away from his lashes, breathing in the mixed air of several faint scents. He recognized the acidic scent of bleach that his hair still stinks of, along with the scent of asphalt and greasy fumes. Then, he registers another scent- one he has become familiar with in the last few days.

Wooyoung.

He shifts, looking for the first time at the boy, catching his concerned eyes. Why? Why is Wooyoung so concerned? San has been nothing but defensive next to him, yet he is always _there_ . He doesn’t want to ask- that usually gets him in trouble, and it would sound odd to just ask _why_. 

He doesn’t even know to phrase _why_ _what_ exactly.

San never had to, he didn’t plan on staying- on getting attached, and now-- now his worst fear is rising up again. Something he tried to avoid so desperately is happening and spiraling out of his control. He doesn’t want to remember names, faces, scents- they all fade away eventually, and they _will_ when this house finds a reason to kick him out just like all the others.

The void that is left in his heart never gets filled after they’re gone, so he never tries.

It’s safer that way.

Wooyoung frowns, then takes a step closer- at which San doesn’t flinch from, “It’s starting to rain really badly, let’s go somewhere?” He asks, voice not pleading, but curiously trying to inquire.

San wants to reply defensively, he wants to tell Wooyoung to get lost and leave him alone, but another voice sparks life within him. That voice he has neglected and kept hidden from everyone that can ever create craters in his heart. The voice that has been hurt, and kept shut. The voice that he lost long ago.

The scent of bleach hits his senses once again, as well as a faint hint of that chemical odor everyone back at the house has.

He nods quietly, allowing himself to follow Wooyoung inside a cafe.

* * *

  
  


The warmth hits his senses first, and only moments later the scent of coffee overtakes the other odors from outside. It’s a relatively small place, and there aren’t many people inside. It doesn’t look any special - white stark walls with several paintings of flowers hung on them, a small counter without any design at the back of the cafe and a few warm lights dangling from the ceiling.

Wooyoung tells him to sit wherever he wants and he’ll get them both something to drink. San is about to retort at the remark, but the other is already making a beeline to the counter. He scans the place, and when he gaze finds the other occupants of the cafe, no one stares at him oddly.

No strange looks, no scoffs, no angry half-words thrown at him. In fact, it seems that no one really notices his existence at all. He blinks several times, taking in the feeling and allowing it to sink before choosing a side table, at a corner farthest from everyone.

This is different.

San feels different too.

“You know, my mom would kill me if she knew that I skipped class,” Wooyoung cheerfully admits, sliding to his spot, across from San, “But it’s worth it. You’re so different outside from school, you know?” He chuckles slightly.

“What the hell does that mean?” San growls, voice still shaky from earlier.

Wooyoung smiles softly, “Well, you act all tough at school, but I think you’re pretty badass.” He admits, “But I wondered from the very first moment I bumped into you, is that all there is to you, or do you have a different persona at home.”

San snorts, “I don’t have a home.”

The other returns to frowning, “Everyone has a home, San, you just gotta choose it.” He says, not berating, “Seonghwa-hyung has been blowing up my phone since the morning, I bet he has already called every police station too.”

“So?”

“So, that’s not something you do for just a stranger.” Wooyoung folds his arms, “He really cares for you, you know. Maybe a little too much, but that’s because he’s such a mom.” He giggles, “One time we went out for chicken with Seonghwa-hyung and Yeosang, and Yeosang is a really messy eater, but hyung just cleaned his face like a mom. With a napkin!” 

San rolls his eyes. Great, another stupid story from Wooyoung.

“You know,” Wooyoung’s voice quietens, “I’m glad I bumped into you today again.”

San looks up at the other.

“You’re actually nice, I can tell that, Yeosang told me I am a good judge of character. I can tell you’re just acting like you’re not,” He’s cut when the waitress brings two cups of hot chocolate to the table and he thanks her briefly, “I’m happy I see this side of you too.”

San snorts, “That’s dumb.” His eyes fall on the hot chocolate in front of him, reflecting both of them in the foam, “I hit a bunch of morons and you think I’m nice?”

Wooyoung chuckles, “You didn’t just hit them, San, you did it to protect your brother.”

“Jongho isn’t my brother.” He corrects him quickly, “None of them are my family or my home, so quit telling me they are.”

Wooyoung falls silent, taking the cup with both of his reddened hands by the cold, hugging it tightly between them. San expects him to preach again, just like everyone. He’s prepared to walk straight out of the cafe and run wherever his legs would take him in this rain, but it never happens.

The other sips quietly on the drink before wetting his lips and looking at San sternly, “Then how about just friends?” He asks, “If I was in trouble and got bullied by those assholes, you would jump right in, right?”

San knows the answer. He would. He’s not sure why, but he never understood his stupid instincts. He knew only two things about them; they get him in trouble, and he needs to stop listening to them. Why is here any different? Why is Wooyoung… Seonghwa… Jongho… Are so different?

“You should drink the hot chocolate before it gets cold.” Wooyoung says after a while of silence with a triumphant yet soft smile.

* * *

  
  


The rain stops by the time the sun sets, and some of the haze lifts, giving space for serene, cool weather. The remnants of the shower still shine under the street lights, reflecting some of the houses they’re passing by. After the cafe, Wooyoung followed him through his walk, chatting about mindless stories about his friends, or how he nearly failed a test a while ago. San listens, not processing the words rather than allowing the sound resonate together with the background noise of the city.

His sweater isn’t drenched anymore, and both of them are set towards San’s house. Tomorrow will be the 10th day, and he can already recall how to get back there. He knows the names of at least 6 people around him, and he can match a face to them. To some, he can also match a voice by now.

It scares him, but draws him with curiosity. He tried family before, he didn’t try friends. He had them at the orphanage, sure- there was Joonyoung and Mingi too, but they all went in different paths. They were all _difficult_ . They were all _problematic_. Those are the kind of character flaws that aren’t easy to change, or so he has been told.

Then why this place just… Accepts them?

“San?” Wooyoung asks quietly, tapping on his shoulder and pulling him out of his thoughts. The other stops, watching Wooyoung and brings the tongue piercing between his still aching teeth. There’s a moment of a complete blackout of sound around them, the mellow noise of the city dying as they halt.

He doesn’t answer, he knows that Wooyoung will say whatever he wants anyway.

“I’m glad you’re my friend.” He says in a hushed tone, “You’re pretty cool when people aren’t pissing you off.”

San nearly laughs at the remark, but allows himself only a small, side-smirk before he keeps on walking. They should be there soon, and San is tired. Maybe tonight it’ll be okay to sleep. Maybe tonight he can think of Wooyoung buying him hot chocolate instead of digging up painful memories. Maybe tonight will be different, since everything around him seems to be that way.

“San? San!” He hears the frightened voice- Seonghwa. Then, the tall figure of that man runs out of the front door, straight to him, and San flinches, prepared to be hit for his misbehavior.

He doesn’t expect Seonghwa to engulf him and pull him to his chest, “Oh god, San.” He cries breathlessly, hands pushing him closer to him, “I-I didn’t know where you’ve gone, neither of you were answering and no one saw you anywhere-” 

San sucks in a breath, the air hitching in his throat at the action. His eyes find something to focus on on Seonghwa’s ugly black sweater. A cat hair maybe- something. This is new, this is strange and he needs to turn his attention away.

This scares him.

“Oh god, San,” The older repeats, his hands now exploring San’s face, removing his hoodie to uncover his new hair color, “You’re not hurt, right? And oh- you’re blonde now?” Seonghwa gasps every word with a tone resembling a sob, but San refuses to believe someone would cry this way over him.

“I didn’t know where you’ve gone, San and-” Seonghwa rests both of his hands on the other’s cheeks, lifting them up to match gazes between them, “I didn’t know when you’ll return, _if_ you’ll return-”

Seonghwa looks genuinely concerned. It’s an ugly expression on his face, San decides, so he looks away, averting his eyes back to Wooyoung. Nothing makes sense here. It’s overwhelming, but not like his dreams, it’s another type of feeling. Something warm and almost choking, suffocating in his throat and causing his heart to ache. A sheer layer of sweat forms in his palms and he digs them further in his pockets.

“I’m so happy you’re alright,” Seonghwa says with renewed tenderness, “Let’s go inside, I’ll bring you something to eat to your room.” His hand squeezes lightly at the younger’s shoulder, “You too, Wooyoung, you can go up to San’s room, I’ll bring you both something to eat.”

Wooyoung’s eyes open almost comically, “No-No, I should really get home, my mom would kill me-”

“Why are you doing this?”

Wooyoung is about to go on, but San cuts in. The shakiness from the morning switching with a constricting feeling in his throat. He can’t name this feeling, and his body behaves oddly to it. The two others are looking at him with confused expressions on their faces- one more sombre than the other.

Seonghwa’s lips curve into a wistful smile before he lifts his hand to San’s cheek once more, caressing the rough skin, “I was worried sick, San, but you’re home now, and that’s all that matters.”

This word again-- home. He can’t stand it.

“You’re going to kick me out soon,” San takes a step back, “If it’s not now, then it’s going to be tomorrow. You’re wasting your time.” His tone rises as he stares at the elder, prepared for the fight, but Seonghwa only chuckles.

“Maybe, but for now, let me prove you wrong and go together back?”

San frowns, confusion emitting his most unwanted reactions- the pressure behind his eyes and the constriction in his chest and neck forming beads at his lashes. He hates this. He hates this confusion and how _nothing_ makes sense here.

_Then how about just friends?_

_You’re a good person, San_.

Why are they telling him these things? No one has ever said those-- he heard difficult, problematic, bad, stupid, untameable, he heard them all--Then why?

San knows the answer, but he’s too afraid to admit it. He’s too afraid to get attached, to allow himself to create more dents and curves in his heart. It feels different, and he can’t explain this feeling, and can’t explain why it keeps drawing him in, but when he follows Seonghwa inside, the constricting pressure in his chest dissolves into a strange warmth.

Can he try again?

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh well this has been some character development, no? Thank you all so so much for your lovely comments on the last chapter, it means the world to me. I hope this one is even better!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please leave a comment!


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